


the sweetest benediction

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Series: October Fics, Kink and Otherwise [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: If anyone had asked why Crowley was perched where he was at the moment, he would have given any number of reasons. He was hiding from a few humans in a bid not to get discorporated. He was in the middle of a rather successful and unprecedented temptation. He'd dropped something, a coin or his glasses, and was simply retrieving them. All of these reasons, of course, were false. Crowley was where he was because he wanted to be, and because once again, Crowley had been the one who'd been tempted.





	the sweetest benediction

**Author's Note:**

> so guess who's an idiot and didn't even realize [someone already wrote a good omens fic taking place during the ball where Gustav III was stabbed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557568). I'm gonna read it rn and you should too!!

If anyone had asked why Crowley was perched where he was at the moment, he would have given any number of reasons. He was hiding from a few humans in a bid not to get discorporated. He was in the middle of a rather successful and unprecedented temptation. He'd dropped something, a coin or his glasses, and was simply retrieving them. All of these reasons, of course, were false. Crowley was where he was because he wanted to be, and because once again, Crowley had been the one who'd been tempted.

'Where he was' happened to be in a mess of fabric, hunched beneath the ridiculously voluminous skirts of a certain angel, who was currently trying very hard not to kick the demon as he moved to reach for more Swedish meatballs, stationed at the snack table of a rather boring masquerade ball. Crowley wouldn't be caught dead in a party as drab as this one, but Aziraphale had insisted and what angel wanted, angel got. Though Crowley had to admit, he was having a great deal more fun than he thought he would, despite being nearly suffocated by the various fabrics and layers he found himself buried in.

It had started normally enough. Crowley and Aziraphale had walked into the party arm in arm, Crowley in his customary black and burgundy, Aziraphale in a huge gown of gold, cream, and a lovely shade of light blue. Crowley kept his head held high, very much aware of the picture they must make, and feeling rather proud to be on his angel's arm. Aziraphale was absolutely enchanting, seeming to glow in the warm light of the numerous chandeliers above them, and even if the party was a complete flop he'd at least have his angel beside him.

But after a few dances and a few tricks here and there, tripping up dancers and causing some mischief, Crowley had grown bored. And when he grew bored, he bugged Aziraphale. The exchange went something like this.

**Scene l, Ballroom or Opera House of Lord or King Somethingorother, Stockholm, the latter half of the 18th century.**

_ [Enter AZIRAPHALE, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and the most fetching angel in all of creation]_

_ [Enter CROWLEY, Demon and origin of Temptation on Earth, most dashing demon on Earth and in Hell]_

**AZIRAPHALE**

I'm not forcing you to stay, Crowley. You can come and go as you please.

**CROWLEY**

And leave you to discorporate of boredom among these snobs? Not a chance, angel.

**AZIRAPHALE**

If anyone would discorporate of boredom it seems to be you, my dear. I won't be able to entertain you all night, Crowley; I have work to do. You'll need to find something to entertain yourself with.

**CROWLEY**

You're the only entertaining person here besides me, angel. Unless I were to do something really fun, like change the punch to absinthe or something.

**AZIRAPHALE**

That would make my job quite a bit more difficult, Crowley, so I'd much prefer you didn't.

And so it went, until Crowley had grumbled and teased so much that Aziraphale, who was trying to keep an eye on a certain nobleman he was to bless, was completely distracted by the demon's proximity, the teasing smile on his sharp face and the way his breath ghosted against Aziraphale's neck as he leaned in to be heard over the music and noise of the party around them. It gave an angel Ideas, ideas that ran away from him, leaving the Principality slightly flushed and eager to pull his companion to a more secluded corner of the room.

Crowley went willingly, his grumbling ceasing as he asked just what the angel was doing, though he didn't make a move to pull his hand from the angel's grasp. Crowley, slightly alarmed by Aziraphale's urgency, put a finger to his temple, shutting his eyes as he checked to make sure no one was paying them too much attention. Was Aziraphale in danger? Had Gabriel or one of his lot been sent down? Or a demon up? But he found nothing unusual, the only beings paying them any attention were the humans they passed until they stopped in a rather secluded corner of the room. The majority or the party were in pairs on the makeshift dance floor, laughing and twirling in masks and skirts and jackets, ignoring the two beings beside the snack table completely as Aziraphale grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop at his side, his cheeks dusted pink and bright eyes just a hint darker than usual. But before Crowley could ask what was wrong Aziraphale gave him a proper look, something with intent, and Crowley found himself tempted before Aziraphale had even opened his mouth.

It took very little to convince Crowley into his current position, just a flutter of dark lashes and a request in a soft, silky voice. What angel wanted, angel got, after all.

He did wish Aziraphale wasn't quite so determined to wear as many layers as humanly possible, though, as his hands slipped up the thin stockings and linen drawers, fingers running along the waist and dipping just beneath to tease at soft skin. He felt more than heard the soft gasp Aziraphale gave, squirming slightly beneath Crowley's hands as he began inching the drawers lower on his hips to see what surprises the angel hid beneath. But before he could find out, he paused, Aziraphale's stance changing as he seemed to stiffen beneath Crowley's hands, and not in the fun way. Something was happening, though Crowley had no idea what. He paused, petting the outside of Aziraphale's thigh, hoping to give him some comfort as Crowley listened, trying to figure out what was making Azirapahale nervous.

Through the small mountain of fabric he was encased in, Crowley heard a voice much clearer than those muffled by distance, male, a voice he didn't recognize straight away. The man was talking to Aziraphale, and though it was a bit hard to hear the specifics of the conversation, the low, teasing tones and the wave of lust that Crowley sensed from a source just in front of them was unmistakable. He frowned, huffing before his attention was brought back to Aziraphale, who seemed to be very slowly inching away from the would-be suitor, his feet scooting back inch by inch beneath Crowley, who found himself scooting with him so as not to be seen. He was a demon, not a monster; wouldn't want to do anything to ruin Aziraphale's reputation or good name, no matter how much he wanted to spring from his hiding place in his snake form and bite the man still talking to his angel.

Before Crowley could slip into a more reptilian skin, though, Aziraphale's voice cut through the noise, sharp and curt.

"While I appreciate the offer, sir, I doubt very much that my husband would appreciate it. And as I've said, I'm not interested. You'll have to look elsewhere for that sort of entertainment, which I'm sure you will find with any number of people here."

Crowley didn't quite hear the reply, though he was sure he heard quite a few rushed apologies as his mind spun. _Husband? _ It wouldn't be the first time that Aziraphale had made up a backstory on the fly, but it _was_ the first time the angel had given him a title that was so… intimate. Romantic. Crowley's heart did a giddy little flip in his chest, leaving a brief kiss on Aziraphale's knee as he rubbed circles in the fabric of his drawers with his thumbs.

"You can come out now if you'd like, my dear. The coast is clear, as they say."

"_Husband_, huh?" Crowley grinned, positive that Aziraphale was blushing with a huffy little frown on his face.

"Oh, hush, you old serpent."

"I rather think I like it here just fine," Crowley smirked, fingers skating up Aziraphale's thighs, delighting in the little shiver it pulled from him. His lips followed the trail his fingers left, starting innocently enough before devolving into open-mouth kisses and the occasional nibble, pulling lovely little noises and shivers from the angel above him. 

"I hope you're able to get that blessing sorted, angel. I think I'd like to spend some time with my beloved spouse tonight," he grinned, leaning up to give a short bite to Aziraphale's hip. Crowley felt the hitch in Aziraphale's breath again, grinning as he left another kiss on his angel's hip before scooting around, miracling everyone's attention away before slipping out from Aziraphale's skirts to stand at his side.

Aziraphale slipped his arm in the crook of Crowley's, wrapping his other hand around his bicep as they looked out at the rest of the party. "You're an absolute menace, you know," Aziraphale murmured, though he was smiling. Crowley only grinned back, shrugging one shoulder up slightly.

"I'm not the one who did the tempting, angel."

Aziraphale didn't reply, simply smiling as he gave Crowley's arm a small squeeze. "Alright, all done, darling. Would you like a lift home?"

"Eager to get going, angel?" Crowley teased, his chest warming at the pet name as Aziraphale led him past the other partygoers and back out toward the front doors and the gravel drive beyond that would miraculously have a lovely carriage waiting for them.

"You've no idea, my dear."

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: while I was doing research on masquerades in general for this fic I went down a slight rabbit hole and stumbled across some stuff on Gustav III of Sweden and his assassination, so that masquerade may or may not be the setting for this fic?


End file.
